


Jormungandr

by CrimsonFirebreeze



Series: The Roleplay Files [2]
Category: Norse Mythology
Genre: Comfort, Coping, F/M, Fluff, Love, Nudity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonFirebreeze/pseuds/CrimsonFirebreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha is still haunted by her violent past and the only one who seems to give her any real comfort is the son of Loki, Jormungandr. Partially blind and trapped in a human form, he sees her more clearly than anyone ever could and he loves her unconditionally, gruesome past and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jormungandr

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sketched a picture for a roleplay we were doing and I got excited and made a story to go with it. 
> 
> The setting is London in 1943 and Samantha is a young witch who's fiance, as RAF pilot, died during the Battle of Britain. Loki has murdered Hitler and has taken over the Third Reich and is being met with opposition in his own ranks as his wife, Sigyn, is dismantling the concentration camps. Loki gives up his power in favor of finding his sons, Fenrir and Jormungandr, who were imprisoned on Midgard by Odin. 
> 
> yeah... it was Avengers in WWII because I wanted it and i created a character specifically to pair off with Jor. Because my friend had created a wonderful and interesting character out of him (and his siblings) and I loves him muches. He's mah Boyfriend. XD

The fires was becoming unbearably warm as Samantha continued to scribble in the little leather bound book. It was nothing of great importance but she needed to get the words down and out of her mind before they drove her insane. It was a day when the guilt was eating at her soul, fraying the edges of her sanity and no matter how much she told herself it was for the greater good, she could not escape.

“What are you writing,” asked that silky voice that sent shivers up her spine still.

“Poetry,” she answered, as Jormungandr practically slithered around her, curling his long body around her. She looked up from her little book into those green eyes, so much like his father’s. They were growing less cloudy every day, though his sight still had not been fully restored to him despite long months of healing.

“Are you having a bad day,” he asked, his features shifting ever so slightly to show concern.

“Yes,” she said, looking away. “My brother has been on my mind today and all the tedious tasks at work could not take him from my mind.”

Jormungandr’s hand slid around her back, his arm circling her and pulling her close. He pressed a kiss to her cheek with a soft sigh. He had nearly unlimited patience with her, but he did not agree with the guilt she felt over murdering her abusive step-father. He believed she had been right to protect her brother, who had been a child at the time. She had, of course, told him all the gruesome details leading up to the incident and it only solidified his opinion that her step-father did not deserve the life he had been given.

Still, Jormungandr understood that she was of a gentle nature and despite the fact that every witch was born to fight and survive, taking life, even when completely justified held no sense of goodness for her. She suspected the innocence and kindness, even in this war-ravaged world, was something that he cherished and loved about her. She also had an inkling that it was those traits that turned his attention towards her in the first place. He was far more perceptive than the average man and could read her with just a touch of his fingertips.

“I could take your mind from it,” he hissed softly, nuzzling into her neck.

“I’m sure you could,” she replied, scribbling again and only slightly amazed that she kept her concentration. His hand began creeping up her thigh and placed hers over it, stopping it’s ascension. She turned a half glare on him only to find him looking at her with a half-lidded gaze that softened her instantly. He shifted and his long black hair fell back from his chest as he leaned to kiss her.

“Really,” she said against his mouth.

“Really what,” he asked.

“You’re nude.”

“It would appear that I am.”

“Jormungandr,” she said with warning.

“Yes, Darling?”

Samantha frowned. He rarely used a pet name and when he did, it usually preceded him getting what he wanted. She sighed and looked down at the words scribbled out on the pages in her little book, skimming over them. The emotions fueling them had already subsided too much for her to continue. She could almost curse him for it but at the same time, she loved how easily he comforted her and calmed her troubled mind.

“Well,” he asked. She sighed and snapped the book shut on her words and looked to him, smiling softly at him. She caressed his cheek lovingly, tracing the markings that ran from under his eye with her thumb before pulling him close for another kiss. It was not a hard decision to make, to choose between brooding or spending the rest of the night in his arms.

“Take me to bed,” she asked, letting her arms slide around his neck, hardly breaking the kiss. He shifted again and hooked his arm behind her knees and stood, lifting her easily.

“As my lady wishes,” he said softly and carried her to their room.

 

 

 


End file.
